Caffeine And Company
by Cthulhu On Rye
Summary: [WilsonChase] All he needed was a little caffeine, and maybe come company.


In two hours and twenty-seven minutes you'll have been awake for three days straight. An abandoned coffee mug sits beside you, its contents long ago drained into your system as you wait. What you're waiting for is unclear at this point, you knew at one point or another it had to do with the patient but you had stopped waiting for something to happen with him a while ago. Now you find yourself sprawled out on the glass table, starring up at the ceiling and waiting.

Maybe you were waiting for sleep, which actually, would have made a lot of sense.

You were passed that point though, the caffeine was still raging inside you, making your fingers twitch every once in a while, displaying your inability to stay completely still, whether it really was the caffeine or the god-only-knows-what-number-wind you were riding on. You had stopped counting at ten.

There's a noise at the door but you don't move your head. If it's something important then they'll bother to actually try and move you, if not then, at the moment, you couldn't give a fuck about what they had to say. Unless they had coffee of course, because ever since you'd lay down on the table, the cool glass pressing against your palms, you had craved just one more warm, thought-blurring rush of caffeine. Or company, you could have used that too, but you weren't quite ready to admit it yet.

"Chase?"

Wilson's voice shattered your thoughts and you feel yourself tense, although you aren't quite sure why. You hear him coming closer, his footsteps somehow soothing as he pulls up a chair and stares at you. You aren't too sure if he knew that you're awake, you've lost the motivation to keep your lids open long ago but sleep had still managed to evade you. Later you would blame the table, it was so cold and hard, not even when one was in such a desperate need of sleep as you, could they manage to find solace on that damn table.

A hand reaches out, gently brushing your cheek and you jump. Sitting up, you just blink at Wilson for a few moments, not exactly sure what to say. Eventually, you just decide on an exhausted smile and a few words of greeting.

He smiles back, pushing the cup of coffee, which you had failed to notice before, into your hands. "I figured you could use a boost." He explained while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a chocolate bar. You had never really been one for chocolate but right now it tastes like a gift from God. Then you laugh, earning a confused look from Wilson but you make no move to explain.

"How're you holding up?" He questions then, his eyes peering at you with worry.

You shrug, "As well as can be expected." Gulping down the coffee, you continue. "There's been little change and I think somewhere, House is laughing at me."

Wilson chuckles. "House laughs at everyone. You should know that by now." You know he's right but you don't say anything else, just swing your legs over the table and prop them up on the nearest chair as you continue to eat the candy.

Wilson rises everything about his manner telling you that he's about to leave. "Well, I just wanted-"

Your hand moves of it's on accord, latching onto his lab coat with a grip that you didn't even know you could manage in your current state. Looking up at him, you silently beg for him not to go just yet, that you need someone to stay with you. You need him to stay with you. If you had been thinking rationally, you would have known this was a bad idea, not one of your worst ones of course, but one that could snowball into something so massive that you aren't sure if you can get yourself out. However, since the only thing keeping you moving in caffeine and sugar, all forms of rational thought have left a long time ago.

Yet again, Wilson looks confused but he doesn't protest, sitting back down and gently prying your hand off but never letting it go. You smile gratefully, more gratefully than he'll ever know and you could ever explain, and move just a bit closer.

That evening House finally took mercy on you, he says because he was sick of you stealing all the coffee, and let you go home. You don't notice that you're at your car until you nearly run into the door and drop your keys. From behind, a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and although you had managed to hold on to your keys before, they fall to the ground at the touch.

"Maybe you shouldn't be driving," says Wilson as he bends down and retrieves the keys. "You're barely functioning, somehow I don't see you being all that capable behind a steering wheel."

Even if you wanted to protest, you knew that he was right, so you just slide into the passenger seat like a good boy and let him drive you home. A small part of you wonders how exactly Wilson knew where you lived but logic, along with just about every other useful thought, was completely wasted on you by now.

The trip is a short one as he parks your car, you realize that you didn't want things to end here. Not that you had the energy to do much besides climb the stairs to your apartment and fall into bed but you knew that you wanted him there right alongside you. Fortunately, Wilson saw it fit to make sure you got up your stairs, occasionally steadying you as you stumble every couple of steps.

As much as it pained you to think about it, you expected him to leave you at the door, his good deed for the day being done and over with, but as he opened your door and gently led you inside, you realized that wasn't the case.

The rest of the night was a blur, all you know is that you wanted to sleep on the couch, the effort to go to your bedroom seeming far too much after the, what felt like impossible, trek up the stairs. Wilson didn't let you though, and half lead you, although really you may as well just admit that the man carried you, into your bed.

You wake up some time later, although you've got no clue as to what the actual time is, and feel an arm wrapped around your waist and warm breath against your neck. A flash of nerves coursed through you then you began to remember. Fragments of the passed three days were flashing before your eyes, ending with Wilson bringing you to bed. Turning on your back, you catch sight of the sleeping oncologist, that grateful smile returning to your face. That same smile that he would never know and you would never explain. 


End file.
